Whatever He Needs
by Banana Tooth
Summary: I just hope he knows that I’m here, for whatever he needs.


**Title: **Whatever He Needs

**Author:** Banana Tooth

**Rating:** T

**Classification:** Danny/Lindsey

**Timeline: **Shortly after the Season 2 finale

**Disclaimer:** I am in no way connected with CBS, the CSI Franchise,or its writers, directors, or producers.

* * *

We're calling it a day after wrapping up the case. It didn't take much on our part, really, because as soon as we located the mother, she confessed to starving her children and leaving them to die in the closet. Her boyfriend didn't like them being around, she said.

But the worst of it was that she felt no remorse. As far as she was concerned, she had gotten rid of some unwanted possessions. Simplified her life.

Stella and I exchange a glance as Danny leaves and Mac heads for his office. It's a look we've shared before: she'll take Mac, I'll take Danny.

She has the harder job, I sometimes think, because she has to talk Mac through things. I wonder how she knows what to say. I know I wouldn't.

But Danny thrives on touch. I sometimes wonder if it's because his mother hugged him a lot, or didn't hug him at all. I've met his parents briefly, but I want to know them better, to better understand where Danny came from. There must be some clues to that somewhere.

I follow him up to the roof, where he's standing, hands jammed in his pockets, staring down at the street below. I go over and wrap my arms around him, and he hugs me back so tightly I can barely breathe. He's so tense that he's trembling a little, and I rub my hands up and down his back, trying to get him to relax, but he only squeezes me harder. _I'm going to be sore in the morning_, I think with a grin. _Even if he doesn't crack a rib_.

We've done this very thing three times before, after Louie, after Aiden, and after Flack. It's become sort of a little ritual for us. And this is as far as it ever goes. He's never so much as kissed me. I wonder if he wants to, and what holds him back.

I try not to show it, but I'm deeply, desperately worried about him. So much has fallen on him within a few months that I'm really surprised he hasn't gone over the edge. I feel like I have no idea how to help him, so I try to show him that I'm there for him, any way I can. I know he likes to be touched, so I'll touch his arm or his shoulder, or brush his hand. I just hope he knows that I'm here, for whatever he needs.

"Let's go get something to eat," I murmur.

"I'm not hungry," he says, his voice muffled against my hair.

"You haven't eaten anything all day, Danny. You'll feel better if you do."

"I'd feel better if I hadn't just seen a lady who murdered her kids. And didn't even care."

There doesn't seem to be anything to say to that. This is where Stella would know what to do, but I can't come up with any words of comfort, so I just keep holding him. What can you say, after what we've seen today? And he has it worse, because he saw the bodies in the closet. I didn't get there until after they had been taken away.

Finally he stirs and loosens his grip, and looks down at me. "Sorry," he mumbles.

I raise my hand to his cheek. "Come on," I say. "I'm buying."

He actually laughs a little. "You got a one-track mind, Montana, you know that?"

I give him a little shove. "Hey, just because I'm not ADD like you are…"

* * *

We go to the little diner where all of us often meet for lunch or dinner. It's a bit greasy for my tastes, but I know Danny needs comfort food. He seems to be back to normal, and we tease each other all through the meal, because I know he likes that too. 

We're laughing as we come out of the diner, but he grows serious as he turns to me and meets my eyes. "Thanks," he says quietly. "You always make me feel better."

I smile at him, knowing it was hard for him to say that. "Danny, if you ever want to talk—or anything—you can always call me. You know that, right?"

"Thanks," he says again. He's still staring at me, our faces close together. I'm sure he's going to kiss me this time, but he doesn't, just squeezes my shoulder and says good night.

* * *

I half expect him to call me when I get home, but when the phone rings, it's Stella. "How did it go?" she asks. 

"Okay," I say. "I think."

"Same here," she says. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"I don't know. I think next time, you get Mac."

I laugh. "Next time, you get both of them. I'm taking Hawkes."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

1. I have written a companion piece to this story, _Not Going Anywhere_.

2. These two stories were inspired by Stella's line in _Charge of This Post_: "We take care of each other."


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